


Fayth

by asuiah



Category: Final Fantasy X, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aeons tied to the soul, Author trying her best to do this crossover justice, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Implied Reincarnation, Multi, No beta we die shameful, Pining, Regretting this already, Romance, Short intro, Soul Bond, Summoning, Typical OC story, Yuna is Aiko but she doesnt remember, badassery, crossover but can be read without knowing final fantasy x, endeavor's a+ parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2020-02-28 11:15:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18755359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuiah/pseuds/asuiah
Summary: There are voices in the back of her mind, and they sit still to a hymn that is noiseless. Aiko is not Yuna, nor does she remember being her.It matters very little to her tenants.Summoner AU//This is a Final Fantasy X & My Hero Academia crossover but it can be read without knowing FFX.\\





	1. Intro: Begin

Aiko has never been alone.

There are voices—of all kinds, some like whispers, like trying to grasp air, where others are strong, commanding, loud, forcing her attention—and they all dwell deep in her mind, quiet more often than not, but so obviously there. 

It’s not very unusual, in a world like this. Her mother suggests she might have some kind of telepathic quirk with animals, as her own quirk lets her understand and command them. Aiko doubts it by the way they stir at that, their quiet disappearing into a roar of discontent at being written off, and she hums dismissively when her mother stares with voiceless question.

There’s something within her that knows the answers. It’s an awareness, a wonderful warmth that surges up whenever they awaken; a familiar, lovely thing, and it sings within her bones, within her very blood. The voices sit at ease in her, and she allows them to with a sort of blinded understanding she can feel to the tips of her toes. It stays that way, for a long time; serene. Calm. Forgettable.

Until it just—isn’t.

It comes to her like a slow, creeping breeze—a low hum of a song—a rhythmic, distant drumming thudding shallowly in her ears. It goes unnoticed, unconsciously, like how one would sit at ease near a fire, hearing the cackle of embers and not really thinking anything of it. Then, suddenly, shockingly, there is fierce thunder, a rolling rumble echoing through the mountains, a bellowing growl of a beast of prey. It’s goosebumps trailing down every inch of skin. It’s like opening a door and stumbling into a war zone.

It’s a demand for action. It’s a demand for acknowledgement. 

It’s their voices, all at once—a piercing, eagle-like shriek, a guttural roar, the quiet, soft voice of a young boy—clawing at her insides, trying to force themselves out. Like—trying to pour a litre of water into a teaspoon. Aiko’s brain simmers in a lake of confusion, unable to do anything but wait for the war inside of her to end, for a calm to reign, for something that she has no answer for. 

Then it’s over, all at once, like blocking a waterfall. There is only silence left; an eerie, chilling kind, a wasteland after destruction. It’s like they were never even there at all.

The dust settles. The waterfall rumbles.

Something bursts from her skin and roars.


	2. U.A.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you're reading this without knowing Final Fantasy X and want to know what the summons/aeons look like, search "FFX AEONS" in google and they should come up.

Aiko stumbles to a stop, the cold air biting at her trembling fingers. Above her, U.A seems monstrous in height, the roof embracing the sky, solid and intimidating, all reflective glass and sleek surface. Hopeful examinees push past her, pooling at the entrance, some filled with nervous energy, others with determination.

A shuddering breath escapes her lips, tension lining her shoulders. She tugs at her sleeve as a low, crooning sound echoes in her mind, a ghost-like touch brushing against her face, sharp like a talon but precise and delicate. Aiko closes her eyes and leans in, breathing deeply as the touch weakens, fades into the wind. _Valefor_ , she thought, the tension dissolving like smoke, _thank you_.

The only reply is a rush of warmth in her bones, a clicking noise in her mind, an insistence that pushes against her stomach and forces one foot forward, and then the other. A little grin curves on the edge of her lip, and she lifts her chin and drives her feet forward. “Okay,” she mumbled, biting down a giggle, “I get it, I’m going.” 

She’s lucky to have friends like these to draw strength from, as she walks to her future as many pro heroes had done in the beginning of their careers. She could imagine them walking ahead of her, standing tall and sure of themselves as they head into their new era. She breathes in, determination filling her, and a strong, approving bellow rages in the back of her mind. _Please lend me courage, Ifrit_ , she thinks, as she stares up at the ‘H’ shaped building. 

“I will be a hero,” her fists clench, white-knuckled, relentless. “I will help people.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Mumbling to yourself—you remind me of that useless Deku. Shut the hell up!”

Aiko’s body spasms with fright, her heart thundering in her chest, as the speaker makes himself known as he pushes past her, his voice an agitated growl, tight as if he’s struggling not to shout his words. She turns and meets eyes that shine like rubies under the wild, spiky blond hair, taking in his ferocious snarl, his wound-up body language, the way his muscles in his throat seem to strain with intensity behind his scarf. Strangely attractive, he is. Almost dangerously so, like watching a house fire from far away.

He gives her one last furious glare over his shoulder, and marches on into the building. She finds herself stiff, blinking with shock. And then his words catch up with her. She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. “What is wrong with that guy? Does he speak to his mother all mouthy like that? Honestly.” Aiko mumbles, shaking her head.

 _He completely ruined my good mood_ , she thought forlornly as she passes through the door, distracted. 

Going through administration is easy thanks to her teacher from middle school, Nanikawa-sensei, who had already sorted through her forms. She’d already been told that there are a few other students from her school planning to go to U.A, but only for the general course, so she would be alone in heroics. It made it feel a little scarier, knowing that she’s all alone against the odds.

The written exam is a blur, but Aiko has studied hard for it, so she leaves the testing room feeling light and confident with her results. The examiners give them a short five minute break in-between for some food. Her stomach feels full of nervous energy, but she forces herself to eat the lunch her mother packed, knowing she’ll need energy for the practical exam. She ends up feeling a little dizzy in response, and retreats her focus in pursuit of calming croons and noiseless whispers in the depths of her mind. 

Valefor’s always been the closest to her, the one that feels more comforting, familiar and playful, warm-spirited and airy. Unlike the others, Valefor never whispers, or speaks—  just makes vague noises at her, preferring actions to words. Aiko likes the simpleness of Valefor.

“Hey,” a tap on her shoulder startles her out of her thoughts, and she glances sideways to see a red-haired guy with a wild grin standing before her, “They wanted everyone in the auditorium to explain the practical exam—  our time’s up,” he jerks his thumb behind him down the hall, to where students are heading for double doors being held open by two narrow-eyed third years. “You looked out of it, so I wasn’t sure if you heard.”

He had a good-natured, laid-back kind of sharpness to him, with cheerfully narrow set eyes, mischievous eyebrows and a confident stance. “Thanks,” she says, unable to contain her smile. “That’s real nice of you. My hero.”

There’s a pause. Taken aback, he flushes and laughs a little, patting her on the shoulder in a friendly way as they both began to walk to the auditorium. “It just seemed like the manly thing to do! I’m Kirishima Eijirou, by the way.”

“Haruna Aiko,” she replied with a broad grin to match his own. Man, this guy is worlds apart from that jerk who growled at her this morning. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you too, Haruna!” he says with enthusiasm. “We should probably find our seats, though,” he said, peering around. Most students have already found their seats, and sit in either complete silence, or subdued conversation. Kirishima pulls out a slip from his pocket and squints. “I’m in seat 38AB. You?”

She sighs and shakes her head, “I’m 14CA. I guess this is where we split, Kirishima-san.” 

“Yeah! See you later!” he waves, body straining in a nervous but excited kind of confidence that she wishes she had. _He’s a cool guy,_ she thought, waving. 

Aiko turns and stares around the crowded auditorium. There has to be at least three hundred students here, despite such a low acceptance rate. She moves towards the stairs, feeling a trickle of self-doubt pool down her spine. “Oh, hey, wait, Haruna-san!”

She’s so startled she nearly trips over her own feet when she turns, head tilted in question. Kirishima leans to the side to let others pass, his hands swinging in the air to get her attention. There are eyes on them, judgemental and curious.

But he just grins, wild and carefree and all-sharp edges, “Do your best yeah? You seem like a manly person! It’d be cool to be in the same class as you!” He gives a big thumbs-up.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and it feels good. Her cheeks flush in happiness, a genuine smile forcing her lips up. “Okay! You too!”

She smiles all the way to her seat, which lies empty in-between a scared-looking blonde girl with a smile that seems frozen on her face and a dark-haired boy who wears an annoyed expression as he toys with his lip piercing. When they meet eyes, he turns away with a huff, while the girl on her left gives a quiet, unenthusiastic, “Hello.”

Aiko nods to her, smile becoming more subdued, “Hi, I’m Haruna Aiko.”

“Hachibana Reiko,” the girl says, her voice a wobble. She has an eerie stillness to her, a sense of dread in her dark eyes, forced smile unwavering against the stark paleness of her skin. It’s like a loud noise would send her running screaming. “Nice to meet you, I guess.”

“Nice to meet you,” she replied, feeling worry crease her brow. “I don’t want to be rude... but is everything okay? You sort of look like you’re about to pass out.”

If anything, Reiko pales further. “I think I just flunked the written exam.” Her fingernail scrapes the side of her examinee card, a quiet, rough sound tearing from the thick paper.

Aiko gives a flinch of surprise, her gut twisting in guilt. She’d felt great about her chances for passing the written exam, but she hadn’t even thought of how it must’ve been for others. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

She gives a brittle smile, her eyes very motionless, “No, it’s oka—”

Her words are lost to the big screen flashing on, the huge, gold U.A logo stark against a blue background. The auditorium stills, gasps echoing through the silence. A spotlight flickers on to the stage beneath it, where a blond man stands confidently, and with a jolt of excitement, Aiko registers that it’s Present Mic in his hero costume. “Present Mic,” the boy with the piercing whispers in awe, the first she hears from him.

“For all you examinee listeners tuning in, welcome to my live show today!” He strikes a pose, then throws his arms out in exuberance. His voice is so loud that it seems to ring through her eardrums. “Now everybody give me a HEY!” He turns and places a hand to his ear, as if waiting for an answer.

Nobody breathes a word, the auditorium stock-still, but Present Mic seems unbothered. “What a refined response!” he says, making an exaggerated gesture that she can’t really make out from so far away. She forces her eyes on the screen behind him, feeling burning second-hand embarrassment trail up her spine, cheeks flushing with horror.

An elbow nudges her arm, and she meet eyes with Reiko, who looks like her emotions have done a sharp one-eighty. It’s the first time the girl doesn’t look miserable— instead, her face is stunned, her eyes wide and incredulous, and when she looks to Aiko she clasps a hand over her mouth to cover hysterical wheezing noises, tears gathering in her eyes. 

“Anyway, I’ll quickly present to you the rundown on the practical exam!” He continues, oblivious. “Are you ready? YEAH!”

“Yeah!” Someone mutters under their breath, quietly.

Snickers ring through the auditorium, barely audible. Aiko hangs her head, face on fire. The boy to her right lets out a mournful groan, letting go of his piercing in favor of pushing his face into his hands, “I thought he was cooler than _this_. What the hell?” From the muffled laughter in the row behind them, it seemed like some people agreed with that sentiment.

“As it says in the application requirements, you listeners will be conducting ten-minute mock urban battles!” Present Mic says. Behind him on the screen, the letters ‘A’ through to ‘G’ pop up in little boxes, all linking to a main box, which said ‘You are here!’ Present Mic gestured to the display, “After the presentation, you’ll head to the specified battle center, okay?” A pause, then another exaggerated pose, “OKAY?!”

Again, no response. “Oh my _god_ ,” Reiko whispers around the fingers against her mouth, shoulders trembling. She peers down at her card, trying to calm herself, then whispers, “I-I’m in battle center F, what about you?” 

Aiko grabs her card and frowns, “Battle center E.”

“There are different types of faux villains, and you earn points depending on their difficulty. For example!” He turns and points to the screen, which is now showing dark silhouettes that hint of monster-like villains, with the number of points earned under each one. “You see? The goal, dear listeners, is using your quirk to earn points by immobilizing the faux-villains. Attacking other examinees or any other un-heroic actions is against the rules— this is a hero school after all!”

“May I ask a question?” a voice yells. A spotlight flickers to life to shine down on a tall dark-haired boy with glasses in the middle group, standing with his hand in the air. At Present Mic’s go-ahead, he continues in a loud, stern voice, “On the printout, there are four kinds of villains, if this is a misprint, then U.A, the most prominent school in Japan, should be ashamed of this foolish mistake!”

Aiko blinks in shock at his boldness, a frown pulling at her lips. Those words seemed a little extreme, didn’t they? Piercing-boy scoffs into his burgundy scarf.

“We examinees are here in this place because we wish to be molded into exemplary heroes! In addition, you over there with the curly hair—” he turns and points to a shadowy figure two rows behind, who reels back in shock and makes some kind of gesture that she can’t make out. “You have been muttering the entire time, it’s distracting! If you’re here on a pleasure trip, then you should leave immediately!”

Aiko can’t help but be glad that that boy hadn’t been near them. Embarrassing someone publicly like that seemed unnecessary. Almost immediately, the auditorium had come to life with mumbling and quiet laughter.

“Okay, okay!” Present Mic silences them, and shoots a thumbs up at the boy with glasses, “Examinee 7111, thanks for calling in the request.” 

He gestures to the screen, where the fourth silhouette villain appears, “The fourth type of villain is worth zero points! It’s basically just an obstacle that will go crazy in narrow spaces. There’s one for every battle center. It’s not impossible to defeat, but there’s no reason to do so, either. I recommend you listeners out there try to avoid it!”

“Thank you very much! Sorry for the interruption!” Glasses-boy yells, bowing before taking a seat. The spotlight on him dissolves into darkness. Present Mic nods at him and continues.

“That’s all from me! Finally, I’ll give you listeners a present—  our school motto!” he scans the crowd with a huge grin lighting up his features, voice rising to an even louder volume, “The hero Napoleon Bonaparte once said: ‘A true hero is someone who overcomes life’s misfortunes. Go Beyond. Plus Ultra!’”

Despite having heard the catchphrase before, Aiko can’t help but make an intrigued noise, goosebumps rising on her flesh. She can feel her friends awakening inside of her; can feel Ifrit’s spirit rising to the surface over all others, Bahamut not far after him, resonating with her, their presence a rough shiver on her senses.

“Now everyone, good luck suffering!”

The screen blinks off.  
  
  
  


“Begin!”

She is the first to move.

Aiko drops to the ground, and pushes her palm to the earth, a roar of fire burning through her mind as her veins pulse with energy, a bold, strong being touching her conscious. Her fingers flicker flame, a pulse shooting out from her palm, the grass turning to ashes in a perfect circle and stopping a meter away, the smell of smoke on the edge of her senses. Other examinees give off surprised shouts as the ground rumbles, before the earth beneath her shoots up into the air, a giant sphere of red light shivering from its place— wedged between the ground and the earth she stands upon.

“Ifrit, be my strength,” she says, and with a pulse of energy, the orb _shatters_.

The earth under her feet explodes into smoke. Eyes burning with fire pierce through heavy grey cloud.

  
  



	3. The Entrance Exam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aiko beats up some bots using the full power of badass-ery.

A roar ripples through the area—mighty and fierce, powerful enough that it leaves the air shuddering in it’s wake. The ground splinters as Ifrit leaps, emerging from thick cloud to catch her on his back, hard muscles shifting beneath her palms as he lands on all fours. Aiko grunts as the wind is knocked from her, his back hard like stone against her chest, the screech of his arm-length obsidian claws striking concrete grating against her senses. Her pulse is thundering in her ears, and she can almost feel her skin vibrating with nervous anticipation, yet she finds her lips curling into an unrelenting, ferocious grin as she takes in her summon’s presence, his familiar warmth merging with her conscious.

The other examinees stare on with frozen expressions, uncomprehending. To be fair, he does strike an intimidating sight, with his brown, beastly body, rippling with nothing but roaring muscle, bare of hair other than the fire-orange mane sitting wildly on his head, shoulders and his lower half. The horns on his head look more like a demonic version of antlers, the same colour and texture as his claws, black and jagged and nearly as big as she is. Even his eyes, flickering hotly with hellfire, look menacing and untamed. 

He is nothing if not otherworldly. 

“Are you ready?” she asks, without really needing an answer. A cackling laugh echoes savagely through the link of their mind. Her brows lower to match her grin, dangerous in it’s determination. “Let’s go, then!”

Ifrit is unnatural in his sense of balance. Each of his claws are the size of her arm, and they cage her to his back; warm and with the texture of metallic nail clippings. He lands on two legs, braces himself on his free arm, and leaps like a particularly confident beast-rabbit. The other examinees are miles behind, now; the spring of Ifrit’s powerful legs flies them over a whole three blocks and right into a group of robots that swivel back and forth eagerly, waiting for them to land. 

Aiko can’t help the hysterical—part terrified, part thrilled—laugh that shakes from the bottom of her belly to her throat, quickly forgotten in the movement of action. She covers her ears with a wince as Ifrit’s deadly claws cleave a robot into scrap metal with a piercing screech. Not a moment later, they’re swarmed—robots advancing on them like moths to flame, like sharks tasting blood in the ocean. 

Her partner roars aggressively and throws himself into action, opening his mouth wide, dangerously sharp teeth on display as he summons his power, an aurora of sunset reds and yellows swirling restlessly in a circle of blue flame, a sphere pooling on the edge of his teeth. It grows about as large as her, taking only a second, and then Ifrit surges his head back, batting at the flickering orb with his claws like a particularly enthusiastic volleyball player, grunting proudly as six of the robots are obliterated with a deafening boom that makes every cell within her quiver from the backlash. 

Ifrit’s chest rumbles with noise, and it’s like thunder rolling over hills, a force of nature; powerful and encompassing. She knows what he wants without even looking at him—the link between their consciousness, their very souls, had been in place long before she had even been brought to life in her mother’s womb—and she gathers herself, pushing up against his rippling back as he puts a little distance between them and the robots.

Your turn, he says—wordlessly, thunderously. Prove yourself, he means, because it’s not Ifrit who is going to be sitting in class, becoming a hero.

My turn, Aiko agrees, her heart warming at how much faith he has in her, endless and burning through their connection. Her heart thumps, one, two, three times, drumming painfully in her chest. She makes sure to put as much distance between her face and his back, and tugs at their connection, opening her mouth.

The world deafens around her, her eardrums collapsing under the tsunami of energy, uncontrollable and willful, a restless ocean. She inhales air and exhales power, knows that the flickering hum that she hears is a sphere of her own, growing at the base of her bottom lip, fiercer and more volatile than anything else she’s ever created. She can feel her veins quaking under the force of it; she feels hot-blooded, like her bloodstream is lava, like someone has injected her with the sun. 

Reality freezes, caught in an icy realm of shock, and Aiko stops, breathes deeply through her nose, and blows. It happens too quickly and is over too fast, leaving her reeling in the wake of overwhelming strength.

Ifrit gives a roaring laugh, barely heard over the resonating clap of air, over the gust of wind that shivers through the street, over the ear-splitting blast that echoes all the way back to the gate. There’s a loud clang; the surrounding robots in pieces on the ground, smoking and charred and half-eaten by her power. Her heart is a prisoner in the cell of her ribs, beating wildly against it’s cage. She feels herself slump against his scorching shoulders, sweat dotting her forehead, her cheeks and back, grinning wildly through tears of triumph.

Her partner gives an inquiring rumble—more of a bark, but rougher, more rabid, and it reminds her of the hounds of hell—and dodges another robot, one of the ones that has a tail like a scorpion, fast and deadly. “Let’s do this, Ifrit!” she encourages, high off of her victory. He tears through it and together they bound off in search for more, listening to the faint noise of other examinees fighting their own battles.

It quickly becomes a blur after that. Aiko and Ifrit leave devastation in their wake, fast and consuming enough that time is quickly forgotten in their single-mindedness. Her ears ring from the impact of their attacks, and her throat is on fire from creating one too many spheres, all moisture in her mouth taken with them. Ifrit himself was starting to slow, feeling her exhaustion through their link, the hard muscles of his shoulders twitching wearily accompanied by the eerie distant echo of pyreflies. He doesn’t have much time left, they both know.

She coughs on a ragged breath as Ifrit takes down the last robot in their vicinity, absently wiping away the sweat on her brow. They both falter as a colossal explosion shakes the ground, eyes shooting east in time to see a whole ten-story building topple over under the weight of a huge, hulking robot; so big that it’s head brushes the sky, it’s elbows graze along the tops of skyscrapers, so ultimately untouchable in it’s size and strength.

Oh, she thinks, with more than a little hysteria. That must be the “obstacle.”

The sound of frightened screaming is so collective that it reaches them even though they’re quite far away. Aiko feels herself tense in concern as the ground give another earthquake, grabbing onto Ifrit’s horns to steady herself. Destroyed robots litter the ground, scattered down the streets and alleyways; not a single one left alive. 

She hadn’t really been counting her points––too caught up in the action of movement, of tenacity, terror and adrenaline—and with a summon cleaving their way through the herd as well then it’s even harder to keep track. They’d been winging it for now, but an icy panic is starting to form in her stomach at the thought of not having enough to pass, and guessing that they’ve been sent a supposedly unbeatable obstacle, it’s no guess that the exam will be ending soon to avoid permanent injury or death.

“Let’s get up high,” she says, determination burning through her chest, pushing against the rising panic. “We need to get more points.”

Ifrit snarls in agreement, sitting back on his legs and lowering to the ground smoothly. She darts around him and climbs up, settling on his back once more, feeling the weight of his claws clamp over her shoulders and midsection securely. He gives an almost violent spring to his legs that sends them flying high onto a tall building, the perfect vantage point, a whole four blocks down from the zero-pointer. Her stomach drops to her knees at the sight of multiple examinees running in the direction of the gate, some standing frozen in horror, and a dozen or so students unconscious on the ground; a few being picked up and hauled with them, others left forgotten in the onslaught of terror.

The zero-pointer is following them ominously in the distance, it’s path straight down the line of bodies strewn on the ground. All thought of points are swept from her mind in the whirlwind of panic that erupts within her, and Ifrit leaps forwards in tandem with her instinct, barreling right towards the danger. In that moment, they are one—of thought, emotion and instinct, pure impulse driving them recklessly ahead. 

His leap was so forceful that their landing makes the ground crumble beneath them, the collision beating the breath from her dry, crackly throat. But discomfort is quickly forgotten, and she stumbles off her friend to kneel next to a half-delirious girl with a swell to her forehead, blinking unseeingly at the sky. “You have to get up,” She says urgently, shaking hands settling behind her shoulders to help haul her up. “It’s coming, you need to run!”

She hears the thud of loud, lumbering footfalls as Ifrit bounds off to paw another body angrily into awareness.

“Wha…” the girl murmurs, fading in and out of a daze, her eyes swimming. Aiko swears under her breath and reaches out to grasp the wrist of a blond boy who was one of the few in the midst of sprinting past them, sending him jerking back and stumbling. 

“What the hell–” he starts, but Aiko is already shoving the girl into his arms, shooting down his glare with a firm stare of her own. In the distance, a building topples with a shivering rumble.

“Take her and run!” And what a face she must be making—because his eyes blink with fright, his skin paling the slightest shade, the expression of a startled rabbit. With less of a scowl than before, he adjusts her in his arms and sets off without a word. 

She turns and—nearly wants to cry, because while Ifrit had gotten a few students up and out, there are still too many scattered around, and her eyes shoot up to where the zero-pointer approaches; not very far away now, way too close and there’s not enough time—

Her stare settles on a speck of white, unmoving in the distance, the shadow of the zero-pointers foot settling above it, and lets out a strangled scream. Instantly, Ifrit shoots past her, the fastest he’s ever been, roaring the fiercest, loudest roar she’s ever heard from him, and she stumbles into a desperate sprint far behind him as the robot’s foot slams down.

He gets there just in time.

The foot lifts, and he’s a pillar beneath it, muscles bulging with vein and defiance, the sound of pyreflies singing and wailing as they leak out of him, his body turning translucent and then solid, straining in and out of existence. Their connection is like a rope in the midst of tearing apart in the middle, and he’s going to disappear at any millisecond now—and she’s still too far away, helpless because she can’t draw on his power when he’s already breaking apart at the seams.

The zero-pointer’s head tilts down, knee rising up slightly, as if confused; then it slams it’s foot back against Ifrit, who trembles under the weight, his feet burrowing into the ground. His claws screech painfully against the metal. She can feel his desperation mixing clearly with her own, and his is strong and proud, intense in a way she’d never managed to match until now.

Just a little longer, she begs, her legs burning, her chest on fire, eyes blurred anxiously and still trained on them, unable to blink away the tears as they gush hotly across her cheek and flick away in the wind. Hold on, she thinks, but their connection gives one last tug—and snaps. 

Ifrit’s anguished roar cuts short, his body exploding into glowing pyreflies that dart towards her, where he lets loose a mournful whimper as he settles back in the depths of her mind, the other voices now able to be heard without the singular connection blocking them out. His courage, the confidence that he instills within her through the connection, fizzes out within her. The robot foot, unburdened now, lifts slightly and pushes back down, about to crush the boy that she can just barely see lying there. 

_No!—_

_“I’ve got him!”_ Someone wheezes in the distance, and she nearly trips over herself with surprise, a relieved sob escaping her as a large figure reels in from a side street and scoops the unconscious boy into huge, yellow-toned arms, pausing to adjust and then sprinting her way. Behind him, the zero-pointer’s foot is struggling against the ground, swallowed by a white, glue-like liquid. The surrounding buildings are toppling, but thankfully they’re going in the other direction under the arms of the flailing robot.

His head is shaped like a glue dispenser, she thinks bizarrely, hysteria forcing her to giggle through her strangled breath. He slows next to her, breathing deeply, his arms quivering as he holds the unconscious boy tucked tight and safe against him.

“The glue won’t hold for much longer,” he says through rattling gasps, his chest heaving. “There’s too many knocked out.”

“It’s okay,” she replies, a plan forming in her mind. Her friends sit restlessly, clawing at her—begging her to summon one of them. Valefor croons, attempting to assure her, but Ifrit is unbearably quiet, his tired presence sinking deeply into the depths of her thoughts. Without him, she feels much less of what she is, but there’s lives in danger; she can’t afford her anxious self-depreciation right now. 

“I can distract it! Grab as many as you can!” Aiko orders with more confidence than she feels.

He pauses, hesitant in the face of her obvious exhaustion, but another building collapses, the ground rumbling hollowly. Reluctantly, he nods his head and dashes off, trusting her. “Be careful!” he yells over his shoulder.

The zero-pointer has it’s hands clenched on the top of two buildings for support, tugging mechanically at it’s foot. The glue has already diminished to half it’s size, gaining the look of wet chewed gum, stretching annoyingly. 

Aiko stills, gathering her energy. There’s barely anything left, her body shuddering in strained exhaustion; her bones feel like twigs about to snap, eyes bleary with tears, mouth still empty of any moisture. But she thinks of Ifrit, clenching under the weight of the zero-pointer, protective over the motionless body at his feet, and she straightens her shoulders, determination building in her stomach. You can do this, she thinks, clenching her fists. There’s not much energy left in her, but she gathers it in her hands, feels her veins pulsate warmly, and draws from anything and everything, pours in her faith, her strength, her fear, shaking hum of power building on her palms, lapping at her skin like waves sliding over sand. She pours everything she has into it, then more.

There’s a storm in her hands; power sparks from a galaxy of sunset reds, pinks and yellows gathered on the edge of her palm, her ears deafened by the sound of a million birds chirping, the thrumming of strength so great it could split the sea. She feels robbed of breath—like maybe she’d poured too much of that in there, too—and her hair is whipping wildly behind her, helpless against the clapping of the great wind escaping her palms. There’s a quiet touch, a lovely, soothing caress against her consciousness, and she reaches out, grasping tight—

Aiko roars, loud, desperate, her teeth bared, and throws her sphere up into the clouds, falling on her back with a choked breath as it explodes high in the air; a perfect circle of energy beaming like the full moon, glowing with the colours of the sunset, and Bahamut’s consciousness slams into hers, locking together like two halves of a whole, unforgivingly solid and formidable, rolling over like a storm cloud.

For a moment, a vast silence rings through the atmosphere; a calm, eerie sort of stillness, a calm before the storm, the pull of a gathering tsunami, and in the center of it all, her lips twitch into a grin.

He crashes through the explosion like a vengeful god, the clouds shattering in his wake. His roar is so loud that the very sky shivers and draws in like a scared child. When he lands with a thundering crash, the very earth surrenders.

Bahamut stands tall, mighty, stone-like. He’s hope in the form of a towering Draconian; a conqueror of the skies, all broad-shouldered dominance and pride and self-assured strength, so alike to Ifrit yet so unbearably different. She feels tears streaming down her face, cheeks wet with relief, her breath shuddering in her lungs.

His scales are like midnight, glinting a deep purple in the light, every inch of him outlined with gold, fit for a king. He carries the sunset in the great spread of his wings; beauty in the pattern of his feathers, growing from the scaly dome arching far above his head. A great golden sundial sits mid-air near the back of his neck, hovering in the gap between his wings, sparking with lightning. He stands on thick, strong legs, a long, scaly large tail flickering in the air behind him.

“Please help us,” she whispers, breath caught in her throat, wobbling as she tries to lurch up onto her feet. Bahamut lets out a low, comforting croon, stable and strong against the chaos that looms around them. Over his shoulder, the zero-pointer gives one last tug and the glue snaps, splitting fast and reminding her of the motion of a frog’s tongue snapping back into it’s mouth after catching a bug.

The air shivers. Bahamut's chest rumbles a thunderous growl.

Watching her dragon summon fight is like watching a lion battle a doe—complete and utter domination. He gets on all fours and digs his golden claws into the ground, gaze nothing but predatory. Energy thrums in the air as his sundial begins to spin, cackling thickly with blue sparks, gusts of wind swirling behind as if he were a great big powerful electric fan. Power forms in waves of translucent blue, gathering around his gaping jaw, where blinding light begins to expand, as if someone had plucked the sun from the sky and squeezed it smaller. A piercing, shrill noise cleaves the air; high and sharp, like the squeak of a mouse on loop.

The ensuing blast is so blinding, so ear-shattering that she has to clamp her hands over her ears and shut her eyes. It lasts only a moment, and she can feel when it ends because the leftover energy spreads through the air—all-consuming, all-powerful—lightning tingling on her skin, the smell of ozone on her nose.

When she opens her eyes, the zero-pointer is falling apart at the joints, and there’s a huge, gaping hole in it’s midsection.

It’s alright, someone says in her mind, their voice boyish, small and child-like—Bahamut. The phantom touch of human fingers, a ghost-like claw of his dragon form merging to stroke at her brow. Rest now.

Tension drains out of her, dissipating into the cool breeze, and she feels human arms, warm and supportive, catch her as she slumps into darkness.


End file.
